Desert Heat - A Black Butler Fan Fiction
by FantasyQueen2197
Summary: What happens when a girl promises her soul to a demon while living in the 'cursed' town of Perdido Beach, California? Will she venture into town and reveal Claude after all the adults of the town disappear, leaving only the children? What will happen next?


Desert Heat – A Black Butler Fan Fiction 20 February 2017 – 21 February 2017

I wasn't a normal eighteen-year-old girl. What made me different from others? Well, there are several reasons. One, both my parents were dead; two, I lived with my 'guardian,' of sorts, and I'd fallen in love with him; and third, my guardian was a demon from Hell whom I'd sold my soul to. Yep, a demon from Hell. I'm not joking here . . .

The demon I promised my soul to Claude Faustus. The last time he took part in the human world was a hundred and fifty-some-odd years ago, back in the Victorian era of England. He served a young boy named Alois Trancy who died at only fourteen. I ordered Claude never to lie to me and he told me honestly that he killed Alois by crushing his skull . . . and then swallowed his soul.

This place was very different than England two centuries ago. I didn't live in England and I didn't come with the British accent. I lived in Bitterweed Valley outside Perdido Beach, California. It was a hot, secluded place in the middle of a desert. I lived in a small white house with a wraparound porch with Claude. My parents were both dead - killed a year ago by some fallen angel whose name I didn't know - and me being eighteen, I took over 'rule' of my little hot haven.

I was home-schooled for most of my life and before my parents died - when I was seventeen - they promised to send me to Perdido Beach High School for my senior year; something like that. After they died, all of that - the plans, my hopes and dreams - were all void, so here I am with Claude Faustus.

The day was hot, as usual, and sandy winds blew my hair back from my face. I sat on the swing on the front porch of my house. I was wearing a white button-down top with denim short shorts and gray flip-flops. And I wore black shades over my eyes. I was sweating profusely as I listened to music on my ancient radio. The song was I Don't Wanna' Live Forever by Zayn from One Direction and Taylor Swift, the former country-singer-now-pop-star. I was singing along to the music until I heard a click.

Looking up, I pulled off my shades and saw Claude was standing before me.

"What's up?" I said without a smile. My eyes raked over Claude, my mind screaming to my heart that he looked sexy. When I first made a contract with Claude, he was wearing a Victorian butler's uniform . . . and he hadn't changed much. I assumed demons didn't feel the extreme cold or extreme heat like humans felt because Claude was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with dark blue denim jeans and black shoes.

"I have received word from the . . . television . . . of the weather report. A sandstorm seems to be coming east. We should remain inside until the storm stops."

I swung my legs back over the arm of the swing, half showing off my legs, half simply standing up. A gust of wind blew and my hair fell in front of my face. I sighed and pushed my hair out of my face and over my shoulder before grabbing my radio and returning inside my house with Claude.

My house was small. Extremely small with an open-floor layout to look big; though it made my house look even smaller . . . There was a kitchen and a dining room area made into one, a living room with a small television set, a bathroom, and three bedrooms. One of the bedrooms belonged to me, the other belonged to my parents. The third bedroom . . . Well . . .

About five years ago, my mom got pregnant again. Our house was going to welcome my baby brother, so my parents made up the guest bedroom as a nursery. The walls were painted tan and all the furnishings were made of wood to look more western, but . . . a few months into my mom's pregnancy, she lost the baby. My mom slipped into a deep depression and ordered my dad not to change a thing in the nursery. He never did . . . and after they died, I never did.

I decided to move all my things into my parents' bedroom and Claude took my bedroom. I didn't change anything in my would-have-been-brother's room but I did spend a lot of time there when I was depressed. When I was in a dark mood, I sat in the rocking chair with the blinds on the windows pulled down. This was slipping into one of those days where I just wanted everything to end, and I think Claude sensed it.

Claude followed me into the kitchen and sat with me at the table. I sighed and glanced to the television across the open room. The television set was old and sometimes - somehow - the color went away, so it was like I was living back in the fifties and forties with no color . . . not that there was much color in my life anyways.

"Your Highness, you shouldn't stay here," Claude said to me.

"What?" I looked to him. "Claude, what do you mean?"

"Would you permit me to speak out of term?"

"Sure," I said, "And don't call me 'Your Highness.' I'm no princess."

"You should move to Perdido Beach. I will follow your lead. You have the money, an inheritance from your late parents. You wouldn't have to be alone anymore. It wouldn't be just us anymore; you could go to Perdido Beach High School like you always wanted, instead of being tutored by me every day. You could make friends and have a life. May I ask what this is then?" Claude asked me, referring to my hermit-like lifestyle.

I was silent for a few moments, gathering my thoughts. "Claude, answer me honestly . . . Do you think I'm boring?"

"No, I do not think you are boring; I merely think you would be happier elsewhere, with other people, not just myself."

I looked to the floor and then looked back to Claude. I fought against the urge to cry. "I don't want to leave here. Leaving here . . ." I looked around the room. The floor was sandy and needed to be swept soon, and a few of the window panes that I could see were cracked and needed to be washed. "I wouldn't have everything reminding me of my parents and . . . Benjamin." Benjamin was the name my parents were going to give my brother. "I don't want to lose all of this, even though I don't have much." I was quiet for a few moments. "Claude, if it's me you want to consume, then you can have me. All I want is to go out clean." Claude raised an eyebrow. Before he could say anything, I got up from the table and went towards the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower."

I went into the bathroom and stripped off my shirt and shorts and left myself in my bra and panties for a few seconds, looking myself over in the full-length mirror. All my life, I've wanted to be loved by someone - anyone - when I couldn't love myself. I wasn't overweight or underweight; my mother always said I was 'just right,' like the porridge in the Goldie Locks fairy tale. The only ones I ever cared for were my parents . . . and then Benjamin . . . and then I fell in love with the one man who could never love me in return. Claude . . .

It was hot and the windows of the bathroom were open. I turned on the water and it came out cold. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and got in the shower. I ran my hands through my hair and started to sing quietly to myself the lyrics to Soul 4 Sale by Simon Curtis, one of my favorite music artists. His songs were relatable. So relatable, especially that song, since I promised my soul to Claude.

I was singing until the song was over, my eyes closed, and then I felt something strange. The water wasn't hitting me and I felt a presence behind me. Not the presence of a ghost, but a real presence.

"It isn't your soul I want."

I whirled around and my eyes widened. Standing before me was Claude. He was still wearing his black shirt and jeans and I was just standing there . . . without . . . any . . . clothes . . . on . . .

"What the Hell!?" I cupped my breasts and crossed my legs. "Claude, get out!"

He did not abide my orders.

"It isn't your soul I want," said Claude again.

"Can we talk about this after I get out of the shower?" My face turned beet red. No man had ever seen me without my clothes on. I was still a virgin.

"It's you I want."

"Get out-" I paused. "Wait, what?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"It is you I want."

My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. "You want . . . me? Why?"

Claude looked me over and took hold of my wrists, pulling my hands away from my breasts. "I did not think it was possible. I have fallen in love with you."

"Claude, I ordered you never to lie to me . . ." I didn't believe him.

"I have never lied to you."

In a matter of seconds, Claude slammed me up against the wall of the shower, his lips against mine. I opened my mouth to breathe and Claude took his chance to enter my mouth with his tongue. He pinned my hands above my head with one hand; with his other, he moved to fondle my breasts. I didn't stop him - didn't want to stop him - and when he released my wrists, I ran my hands through his tousled hair and let out sighs and moans of passion.

When Claude stopped demonstrating to me a French kiss, he pulled back and tore off his shirt and pants, then returning to kiss me. Instead of going to my lips again, he began to roughly kiss my neck and moved down to my breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard to a mix of pleasure and pain while massaging my other breast in his hand.

I looked down to pull Claude's face up to mine so he could kiss my lips again and I saw he wasn't wearing boxers. Apparently, he was planning this - I think - so maybe that's why.

"Claude, I want you!" I cried out as he kissed me fiercely again.

Claude slid a hand down the front of me and began to toy with my wet folds. I was soaked from the shower but even more so with my own femininity. He wasn't wearing gloves like he used to in the Victorian era; he didn't wear gloves now. His nails were black and the Faustian contract on his hand turned a few shades brighter as his fingers slipped into me, his gold eyes turning their demonic pink color. I cried out and threw my head back as Claude knelt before me and pulled his fingers out of me, replaced by his tongue. He lapped up my feminine juices and wriggled his tongue into me as far as it could go. I whimpered and held my breath and gasped in again, unable to control myself.

This.

This is what I was missing, what I wanted.

And now I had it.

"C-Claude! Oh!" I cried out as I felt a wave of lust come over me. I was nearing the edge already and Claude stood before me again, a smirk on his face as he licked his lips. "Virgins always get so wet their first time," he purred. "You clearly fit under that title." Claude smirked.

Claude was usually a very serious person; he didn't smile much. Seeing him smirk was more common than his smiles. From the few whom had crossed the path fo my house - those numbers were so few - and whom had met Claude, he made them a bit on edge. I mean, what hot British butler lives in the middle of a California desert with a young girl barely out of her teenage years?

"I want you!" My legs felt like jelly, like they couldn't support me. Claude smirked again and shut off the water of the shower. Taking me in his arms, he threw my legs over his arm and carried me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, placing me quickly - a bit unceremoniously - on the bed.

"Have me, then," Claude said to me. He descended upon me, his hands flying over my body. His lips slammed against mine and he French kissed me again in ways I'd never been kissed.

I felt Claude's heated member press into my flat stomach and I pulled Claude closer to me so I could barely breathe. Claude chuckled and touched himself, guiding his lengthy sword into my feminine sheath. As he entered me, I cried out and immediately wanted more than what he was giving me. My demon guardian - now my lover - pushed into me until I cried out louder, my cries of pain and passion fueling his own eagerness and excitement.

I had two sides to me. There was the side that wanted a boyfriend who would treat me like his queen, and then there was my other side . . . My other side wanted a boyfriend who would be like Christian Grey in Fifty Shades of Grey, someone who would play rough with me and show me a world of darker extremes. Claude was that lover. He could give me all of that.

My nails raked against his back and he shuddered against me. I wanted more of him. I didn't need to see Claude's back to know my nails were bringing about faint red trails of blood, but not deep enough to cut him . . . though there was a part of me who knew Claude would find that . . . extremely pleasant.

"Harder . . ." Claude let out a growl as he quickened his already swift pace into me.

I did as he wanted but it was still not enough. Claude growled again and nipped at the nape of my neck. I scratched him even harder, but that still wasn't enough. "Claude, I don't want to hurt you," was my little excuse not to continue with the further marring of his skin.

"Harder!" Claude raised his voice, and I did as I was told. Raking my nails against Claude's back as hard as I could, Claude shook fiercely against me, pumping in and out of me but never leaving me, and he cried out as his demon seed flowed into my precious womanly parts. I cried out, echoing Claude's pleasure, and he sank against me.

"Claude, was I . . ." I couldn't find the words to speak, only now becoming embarrassed again. "Was I . . . good?" My cheeks turned hot with redness again and Claude pulled himself up to look down at my face again, a smile coming about on his lips.

"You are the perfect little lover," Claude said to me as he cocked his head to the side. "You're a human so fit for me." Claude looked over my body again and licked his lips.

I blushed again as I thought we were ready for another round - one rough again - and ran a hand up Claude's chest to touch his cheek. "And you're a demon so fit for me."

4


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